Food that looks like food

There's a Piroshki restaurant on 3rd Avenue here in Seattle. In homage to Captain Obvious, it's called Piroshki on 3rd.

The Captain likes flaky crust and savory filling.
The Captain likes an eatery with a fully informative name.
I'm not sure if the Captain likes yellow paint.

In keeping with the obvious name, Piroshki on 3rd serves obvious food.

Piroshki on 3rd serves Piroshki, on 3rd.
Why did you even bother reading this caption?
Why did I bother writing it?

Obvious food in obvious shapes.

The tasty turkey-filled piroshki are shaped like turkey legs.
The delicious salmon-stuffed piroshki are shaped like salmon.
If they had lickable wallpaper, the snozzberries would taste like snozzberries.

Which got me thinking what the world would be like if every food were sculpted to look like what it's made of.
What if hamburger patties, by mandate, had to be shaped like cows?
What if all chocolate bars had to be shaped like cocoa beans?
What if there were a requirement that hot dogs must be shaped like pigchickengizzardeyeballtongue? Would people stop eating them if they had to constantly confront what they were consuming?
Would the poor French fry meet its culinary end? Because a French fry shaped like a potato is, well, a potato.
 

Compulsively lying toiletries

First, there was the GrannyScented shampoo in Kansas, March 2012. It required several minutes, a feat of superheroic strength, and my incisor teeth to get it open.  Subsequently, it required exactly 2 seconds to realize the valiant struggle had not been worth it.


Then, there was the roll of toilet paper in northern India, November 2013. It made its very best gold-printed, airbrush-artworked, individually-wrapped effort to rise above its humble station in life and become something more elegant, more aspirational, more alluring.   ...but really just proved that no matter what you call it, toilet paper still meets the same demise in the end.

And now, the trifecta is complete with the discovery of this little miracle in Vancouver, December 2015. It's in a small shapely box! The box is Tiffany blue! It's nearly the most wonderful time of the year! It literally informs you that the box contains your Fantasy!

And...it's a shower cap.
When you think Fantasy, think of sequestering your hair in an elastic-banded plastic hat. Think of a world in which your head can go Unwashed for days or weeks on end. Imagine the Luxury of knowing the only moisture that's permeating your hair in the shower is your own Glistening scalp sweat. Yes. Fantasy. Yes.

Dream big.
 

The best laid plans of mice and men

Isn't it weird how vacations are like the battleground for two diametrically opposed forces?
On one side, you have a stated goal of rest, relaxation, and replenishment of the soul.
On the other side, you have to orchestrate all the travel, lodging, meals, activities, packing, and reservations to make it happen.
Crushing unrestful unrelaxed defeat ensues almost inevitably, unless you have some superswanky travel agency planning everything for you or it's a staycation or you don't care that you only packed one shoe and forgot to buy plane tickets for the return trip.

I'm a Planner. I need flight confirmations and hotel booking numbers and both shoes packed.
The more I've traveled the more Plann-y I get, right up to the point that it might jump the shark. I had 5 days off last week, and (...potentially-embarrassing confession forthcoming...) there was an Excel spreadsheet involved.



It even had contingency plans, website references,
color coded events, drive times, and weather forecasts.
And that was only the rough draft.
It's like I'm auditioning for Type-A Nerd of the Year. 

Despite what the Excel spreadsheet might imply, I think I'm getting the hang of being well-planned without being over-planned. It was an awesome trip where all the big stuff went smoothly (hooray for planning), and all the little stuff was left flexible enough to sort itself out (hooray for not planning too much).
But here's the most important thing:
The very best stuff just spontaneously happened on its own, without any plan at all.

The best moments came from random things, like the sign on the 2 hour ferry boat from the US to Vancouver Island, Canada, with its apparent threats to throw you overboard if you went into certain stairwells uninvited:

"Authorized Personnel Only Beyond This Point.
Violators are subject to Expulsion, Arrest, and Prosecution."
...As in expulsion from the boat? Into the Pacific?
Is there a plank they get to walk?
Does the arrest and prosecution
 come after they've been thrown overboard?
 

The best moments came from unexpected human events, like the unannounced-but-exuberant Catholic? Indigenous? Completely mis-scheduled Cinco de Mayo? Christmas? parade that passed right under my window:

A float with the Virgin Mary?
A cluster of rejoicing mourners?
A troupe of Native American Santa Claus dancers?
Best (and possibly most confusing) parade ever!

The best moments came from spur of the moment ideas, like my travel companion's sudden insistent compulsion to carve a treasure hunt doubloon out of a chocolate chip cookie using only toothpicks and fingernails while sitting on a driftwood stump in Cannon Beach, Oregon, to recreate a rather fantastic scene from a certain awesome movie:

We found the key to One-Eyed Willie!

The best moments came from pure serendipity, like the instant when we rounded a corner coming down a one-lane road and the afternoon light erupted through the trees just right:

You can't plan that.